Wheeling Gull Isle It's a Marshmallow World

It started out as a determined trek up the Skybowl mountain slope early in the morning. One foot after another, toiling stoically upward; this mountain-trekking stuff was serious business. This only lasted until Driftwood began to encounter the first patches of snow, further up, however: a glimmer appeared in his gold eyes as he turned his head eagerly to and fro, taking it all in, and his tail lifted up and began an undignified wiggling, one that only strengthened as he reached larger and larger patches that made a most satisfying crunch beneath his feet. He inhaled deeply, and his tail beat even faster as a smile spread across his face. Crisp and invigorating and beautiful. He could certainly see why the wolves of the island had chosen to stay here, on the wide skirts of the mountain that had such a breathtaking natural feature as this as its crown.
 
As he brushed past a fir that was still laden with the last of its wintry burden, the tree jumped at the sudden touch and whipped away from him in affront, leaving behind a clump of wet flakes that landed right on Driftwood’s head. He yelped and jumped a little himself, the snow sliding down his forehead and leaving behind an undignified wet snail-trail behind it, spiking up his fur just a little into a small, lopsided Mohawk along the way. He shook his head and worked his jaw for a moment, trying to get used to the sensation, then sprang suddenly back at the little green fir with his paws akimbo, air-snapping and whuffing low in mock-threat as he danced around the tree. Then just as suddenly he went springing away, jumping straight toward a larger snow patch in the shade of a thicker-trunked tree. He danced from one spot to another, shoving his nose eagerly through the crust of every splotch of snow he came to and then tossing each muzzlefull high into the air. Who said it had to stop snowing just because it was Spring? Driftwood was the wolf god of weather, never one to let a little thing like the natural order stop him!

His wide grin left his long pink tongue lolling out as he floundered zig-zagging around and significantly slowed his upward progress. The grin hardly faltered even for a moment, not even when he tripped and sent his whole front end plowing into one of the largest snow patches. He got up and shook himself off still-smiling, not bothering to take notice of the furrow of dirt he’d uncovered or the way a little of it clung to his once-buttery-cream chest. He lolloped gleefully along quite heedless of where he was going or how fast his tangled path of pawprints was getting him there. He only slowed when the last rise faded into sight, the cold mists retreating just enough for his eyes to glimpse the nearest horizon and his nose to catch wind of the clear cool waters above. Then he had to pause his antics for just a minute to make properly appreciative note of his surroundings once again. He flicked an ear at the mist-muffled chirping of a still-sleepy bird that was shortly answered by the lower twittering of an even grumpier one nearer-by.

Moorhen slunk after the weird male, eyeing him distrustfully as he made a mockery of both himself and the skybowl. His play was not something that was unfamiliar to girl, but she was in a mood lately and couldn't understand why everyone else wasn't, either. The Shadow was gone, and how could the man be messing around at a time like this?

"Hey you," she called, wanting him to just stop already - what was his deal, anyway?

Driftwood grinned up at the squabbling birds as their twittering exchange grew more heated. He remained blissfully oblivious to the presence of any other living beings until a more substantial voice sounded from behind him. Drift started slightly, and turned to find a female wolf regarding him with quite a bit less enthusiasm than he himself still held. Driftwood's grin widened again at the sight and his tail wagged high nonetheless. His mind blithely skipped over her tone and focused instead on the words she'd offered.

Oh, uh, hey there! Grin grin, wag wag. There was only a little bit of hesitance in his stance, and a little uncertainty in his eyes; his main demeanor was still quite optimistically happy and guileless. He bravely moved a step forward, flicking a small feathering of snow vaguely in the direction of the other wolf as he moved, though it was unlikely to touch her unless she threw herself forward striving to grab it—which Driftwood was all in favor of, really; he and Seelie hadn't gotten to play at all, really, but perhaps he'd have better luck here and now with this stranger. I'm called Driftwood! Who're you?

Her scent wasn't entirely unfamiliar even if her face was; she'd obviously been here before, and around the island much longer than he, so naturally Driftwood assumed that having a little more fun engaging with him was more likely her aim than simply having another look around at the scenery. Still, he tacked on another remark: It's quite pretty here, isn't it? He himself was distracted enough by said pretty scenery to pay overmuch attention to her own body language, though he held himself ready to play nonetheless should she make a sudden big leap to get to him. His eyes rested on a fluttering tiny leaf here, a mote of sun there before wending their bright way back to the face of the other.